


His Red Right Hand

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gray Padawan Eleven, Jedi Jim Hopper, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rebel Scum General Joyce Byers, Rebel Scum Jonathan Byers, Rebel Scum Nancy Wheeler, Rebel Scum Steve Harrington, Sith Billy Hargrove, guess who saw the last jedi last night, i have star wars on the brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 07:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: A man stands outside of a Rebel base, and everyone's pretty sure he's a Sith.So, why isn't he moving any closer?Why aren't they all dead?





	His Red Right Hand

**Author's Note:**

> So, anyway, I saw the Last Jedi last night, and guess what? It was pretty great. So now I'm thinking about Star Wars again, and since Stranger Things has been my thing the last few weeks, both fandoms got tangled all together.

The figure in black robes stares up at the great steal door, stock still despite the icy winds that rip at the hems of his burgundy cloak, which bulges oddly to one side.

 

He’s been standing there for hours, careful to remain just out of range of the guards who watch him from their foxholes.

 

General Byers sighs from her place at the bridge, minimizing the security feed with a wave of her hand.

 

“He hasn’t done anything,” Nancy says from her place beside her, brow furrowed as she frowns. “He’s just… standing there.”

 

“Are you sure it’s him, Hop?” General Byers asks, looking up at the man leaning against her chair. “This doesn’t fit his MO.”

 

“It’s him,” Hopper says. “I just… I can’t get a read on him, Joyce. He’s masking himself.”

 

Joyce sighs and runs a hand through her wild brown hair.

 

“Alright,” she says. “This is really goddamn weird.”

 

Darth Mallis is known for his destruction. He’s the most powerful pupil of Supreme Leader Snivous, and has a reputation of destroying Rebel bases with an inescapable, furious Force unmatched by anyone in living memory. If he wanted to, he could launch an attack, just him, and peel those great steel gates apart the way someone else might peel an orange.

 

So the question is, why hasn’t he?

  
  


*.*

  
  


Steve isn’t anybody important. He’s friends with important people, sure, people like Nancy and the General’s son and the Jedi the lower ranks refer to as the Chief, but Steve himself? He’s just a soldier.

 

Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who it is standing not twenty yeards away from his foxhole.

 

Darth Mallis hasn’t moved since he walked out of the snowstorm, face hidden by the deep darkness of his cloak. The guy must be freezing. Do Siths even get cold? Steve has a lot of questions.

 

For instance, why is he here? Why hasn’t Steve died a sudden, violent death? Why hasn’t he moved or spoken or drawn his saber to destroy them all?

 

Looks like they’ll never know, because the Sith isn’t moving, and for now, neither are any of the Rebels.

 

“This is boring as shit,” Carol groans from beside him. “Can’t we just shoot him?”

 

Steve doesn’t even spare her a glance.

 

“Out of range,” he says. “Plus, you know. He might get mad and kill us all if we do that.”

 

“He might kill us all anyway,” Carol points out, which, yeah. He might.

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes.

 

“Why doesn’t somebody just go and ask him?” Tommy says, balling up an empty rations packet and tossing it at the dirt wall in front of them. “Fuck, at least it’ll be _ over.” _

 

Carol arches an eyebrow at her partner.

 

“Wow, Tommy, that’s a great idea,” she says. “I wonder why no one thought of that before. You wanna volunteer for the job?”

 

Tommy stiffens.

 

“Uh, no. I’m alright.”

 

“That’s what I thought.” Carol scoffs, pulling her hat lower around her ears. “Just do us all a favor and keep quiet, will you, Tommy? You lower the IQ of the whole foxhole.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Steve says, and then his teeth click shut. What the fuck did he just say?

 

Carol’s head whips around.

 

“What?”

 

Steve pauses, trying to figure out why he just said what he said.

 

“I mean…” he starts slowly. “He might kill us either way, right? It’s not like he’s gonna leave me alive if he decides to kill us all. So I may as well.”

 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Steve.”

 

“I’m doing it.” Because he’s said it, and now he’s thinking about it, and if he lets himself get too scared he’s going to overthink it for the rest of his likely short life.

 

Steve pushes himself to his feet, shouldering his blaster and straightening his goggles before reaching for the ladder and hauling himself up over the edge.

 

“Harington, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hears his squad leader shout, but Steve doesn’t pay him any mind, pushing himself to his feet and setting his hand on the strap of his blaster, taking a purposeful step towards the figure in the snow.

 

Suddenly, he feels watched. Abort mission, abort mission— the gaze of Darth Mallis is upon him.

 

Steve really is a moron, because he takes another step forward. Then another.

 

Darth Mallis doesn’t move, apparently content to watch his slow, uncertain approach. For now. Who knows, he’s got the Force, and could probably choke him out even at this distance.

 

Steve is sort of surprised that he doesn’t, not even when Steve gets him in range of his rifle.

 

He holds up a hand in a half-hearted wave.

 

“Hello!” he shouts over the wind that whips at his cheeks. “Mind telling me why you’re standing out here?”

 

There’s a pause, and then a voice speaks directly into his ear.

 

“Come closer.”

 

Steve stops, uncertain.

 

“Y’know, I’d rather not,” he says. “Since we’re pretty sure you’re a Sith and all.”

 

Dark amusement colors the voice in Steve’s ear.

 

“I could have killed you while you were still pissing yourself in your foxhole, Steve Harrington,” Darth Mallis says. “Come closer, princess, I don’t bite. Today.”

 

Steve still hesitates, which is a bad move, because suddenly, Mallis is raising a hand gloved in red leather and his body is moving on its own and he’s being pulled forward, arms and legs stiff as his toes slide across the snow.

 

He’s deposited an arm’s length from the Sith, and now, Steve’s brain is catching up to him and informing him that this was the stupidest, most impulsive thing he’s ever done in his eighteen years of life.

 

Shit.

 

“Right, great. Awesome,” he says as his body is released from the invisible hold Darth Mallis has on him. Weird, his gloves don’t match. The left one’s black. “Hi, I’m Steve—”

 

“I know.”

 

“And I’ve come out of my nice, cozy foxhole to ask why the fuck you’re here?”

 

There’s a pause.

 

“Maybe I’m here to destroy your little base,” Mallis says, and really, it’s hard to hold a conversation with a guy when you can’t see his face.

 

“Yeah, um, probably?” Steve shifts. “But you haven’t yet, so I figured I’d just ask, because— maybe there’s some other reason? Please?”

 

Another pause.

 

“I was waiting for someone to let me in,” Mallis says. “It’s cold, and my student doesn’t appreciate it.”

 

“Uh, student?”

 

Darth Mallis moves, then, pulling his cloak aside just enough that Steve can see a small, round face scrunched into a suspicious frown and a mop of curly hair. A girl, no older than thirteen.

 

Steve’s stomach drops.

 

“I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge of this base,” Mallis says, letting his cloak fall shut once more. “Make a deal, or whatever.”

 

“A deal regarding what exactly?” Steve asks around the lump of fear bobbing in his throat.

 

Darth Mallis shifts again, and his hood falls back just slightly, revealing a sharp chin and a twisting, sly mouth.

 

“Defection.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


The entire base freezes as they watch Steve lead a Sith through their twisting halls, mouths open with horrified terror as they register who, exactly, it is walking behind him. Mallis doesn’t seem to care, gaze intent on Steve’s back where he can feel it, but Steve is very, very uncomfortable. He is not the person who’s usually looked at, at least, not in this context. It’s unsettling.

 

General Byers is already waiting for him when he reaches the conference room, along with Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan. The suspicion in her eyes when she meets Steve’s gaze makes him want to shrink.

 

“General,” he greets. “I’ve…” he trails off, uncertain what to says.

 

A thin hand slaps him hard on the shoulder, gripping and shaking him just enough to make Steve incredibly aware of how much weaker he is than the Sith in the room.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Steve, you did your part,” Mallis says, and there it is again, that dark humor that seems so very out of place. “Let the grownups talk, now.”

 

The room fills with an odd, heavy presence, one so strong that Steve can taste it. Mallis has let go of whatever control he's been holding over his power, and it makes Steve feel hot and cold and a little bit angry, all at once. He should probably leave.

 

“Steve, stay,” General Byers orders, so he does even if it makes his heart sink, moving to lean against the wall by the door.

 

“Well-trained,” Mallis remarks quietly, and Steve gets the feeling he’s smiling under that hood. “General…?”

 

“Byers,” Joyce says flatly. “General Byers.”

 

“General Byers,” Mallis says with a nod. “And the Chief. Hopper, was it?”

 

“You’d be right, Mallis,” Hopper says.

 

“I fought you, once,” Mallis says almost idly. “Three years ago. You kicked my ass.”

 

Hopper nods sharply.

 

“I remember,” he says. “You were young, then.”

 

“I’m still young,” Mallis says, a touch bitter. “And youthful stupidity still runs in my veins.”

 

“Is that what brings you to us?” The General asks.

 

“Most definitely,” Darth Mallis agrees. “I’ve come to defect, and offer my aid in return for protection for my student.”

 

There’s a beat of silence as Mallis pulls back his cloak once more, and the little girl hidden beneath it steps out, looking small and scared in her black-on-black robes. She’s holding Mallis’ hand, Steve realizes after a moment. She’s holding his hand like he isn’t the destroyer of sixteen Rebel bases to date and murderer of literal thousands.

 

“A student,” Hopper says, eyes darting between the girl and Mallis. “The Dark Side is recruiting.”

 

Mallis shakes his head.

 

“Not quite,” he says, and there’s a definite bitter note in his tone this time. “ At least, not like you're thinking. Eleven has been in our grasp from the moment she was born.”

 

The girl is staring at Hopper, frowning slightly.

 

“Different,” she says, looking up at Mallis. “Soft.”

 

“Light,” Mallis corrects. “Jedi.”

 

“Oh.” And just like that, Eleven’s face relaxes, and she offers Hopper a tentative smile. “Hello.”

 

Hopper smiles back.

 

“Hello, little one,” he says, dipping his head. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“I offer my strength, my knowledge, and my connections in return for the safety of Eleven,” Mallis says, turning his attention back to the General. “Whatever you ask, I’ll give you.”

 

General Byers watches him carefully but doesn’t answer.

 

“Who trusts the words of a man who won’t reveal his face?” Nancy asks sharply. “Lower your hood, Darth Mallis.”

 

Steve feels his heart stutter. No one has ever seen Darth Mallis’ face and lived to tell the tale. A man so careful with his identity might not take the order to reveal himself well, and Nancy… Nancy just does it, because she’s always been braver than Steve.

 

Mallis tilts his head almost curiously, peering at Nancy like he’s never seen anyone like her before.

 

“Suspicious,” he remarks, almost pleased. “I see, now.”

 

And just like that, he reaches up with a gloved hand, pushing back the hood to reveal golden curls and eyes as blue as the Naboo skies.

 

He’s beautiful, Steve realizes a little dully.

 

_ I appreciate the thought, princess,  _ thrums through his brain, and Steve flushes scarlet, because apparently, the Sith in the room can  _ read his goddamn mind. _

 

“My name’s Billy,” Mallis says, and suddenly, he’s standing a lot less like a monster and more like a teenager, pulling back his cloak so he can loop his thumbs into the pockets of his black uniform pants. “And there are fifteen more children like Eleven— that I know of— in the bowels of the Supreme Leader’s ship. Eleven’s sisters.”

 

General Byers looks at the girl, then at Hopper, gaze questioning.

 

“She doesn’t feel Dark,” Hopper says after a moment. “But not Light, either.”

 

Mallis shrugs.

 

“She’s not meant to be Dark,” he says. “And I don’t know Light teachings. I figured Gray wouldn’t be too hard to shoot for.”

 

Hopper frowns at him.

 

“You’ve given way to the Darkness,” he says. “I can feel it.”

 

Another shrug.

 

“I am what I am,” Mallis says. “I don’t plan on turning, if that’s what you want to know.”

 

Jonathan, who’s stayed silent until now, speaks up, ever the clear thinker and quiet observer.

 

“How did you find us?” he asks. “Does the Dark know our position?”

 

Mallis shakes his head.

 

“No. Just me.”

 

Jonathan crosses his arms, but his face is open, curious.

 

“Just you,” he repeats. “So only you have the ability to find us?”

 

“It’s not hard, if you know what you’re looking for,” he says. “And I was looking for someone specific.”

 

“Who?” Nancy asks.

 

“My sister,” Mallis says. “Max. She’s here, somewhere.”

 

“Max?” Steve blurts out. “The pilot?”

 

Mallis nods, glancing over at Steve with those big blue eyes before returning his gaze to the others still seated at the table.

 

“Twenty-three confirmed kills in her first four battles,” he says, a little proudly. “You’re lucky to have her.”

 

“And you too, it seems,” the General says a little dryly. “You truly want to defect? To join the Rebellion?”

 

Mallis hums thoughtfully.

 

“Not really,” he admits. “But I figure you’re all the gooey sort who will take care of El if I’m killed in action. For that, I’m willing to let go of a few bad habits.”

 

“You mean like ransacking Rebel bases and killing for sport?” Nancy says, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Killing Rebels, killing clones, it’s all the same to me,” he says, shrugging. “I’m not much for politics, personally.”

 

Joyce looks over at Hopper, who shrugs.

 

“He’s not lying,” he says.

 

She sighs, then looks back to Mallis.

 

“Don’t kill any of my people,” she says. “That’s your condition. And you’ll tell us everything you know.”

 

“Done,” Mallis says immediately. “And Eleven?”

 

“She can stay, of course,” the General says with a nod. “We’ll extend to her the same protections we have in place for all our children.”

 

Mallis nods, pushing himself to his feet a moment after the General herself.

 

She holds out a hand for him to shake.

 

“Welcome to the Rebellion, Darth Mallis,” she says, barely cringing when the cold red leather of his gloves brush against her skin.

 

“So formal, General,” he says lightly. “Please. You can call me Billy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about an hour and a half, and in this house we don't edit, we post first drafts like men. I'm thinking about extending this universe just a little bit, but I don't wanna touch on Star Wars plots and I don't know enough about the universe to actually make something up myself, so if I do, it will be completely about Steve and Billy falling in love and also adopting all the children.


End file.
